Vague Nightmares
by Sararingo
Summary: Post-Destroy, Paragon Femshep, Garrus LI. Set after 'Giving Up'. Commander Shepard still hasn't come to terms with the injuries she sustained in the final push against the Reapers. Luckily her favorite turian is there to support her. Reviews are appreciated. One shot.


Shepard woke with a strangled gasp, her eyes wide, a cold sweat enveloped on her body. Her whole form shook, nothing but pure terror in her eyes as she stared around the room, trying to figure out where she was.

The dim lighting of the stars outside shined through the window, barely illuminating the rest of the room. The quiet beep of her heart rate monitor droned on beside her, and Shepard frowned, looking down at her hands.

There were four small, curved cuts in her palms from her fingernails. Another nightmare.  
She breathed a tiny sigh, putting both hands in her hair as she sat up a little more, leaning over her useless legs. When she had first been brought into the hospital, she didn't remember much of anything. She could vaguely remember a beach, but she knew that it was the delirium of her near death; she didn't remember the weeks she spent out in the rubble, only staying alive because the elements pitied her.

"Another nightmare?"

Shepard glanced up to the doorway as she heard the familiar sound of a door sliding shut. The turian's mandibles clacked to his face as he walked quietly toward her, a package of some kind of dextro food in one talon. He took a seat on her bedside, looking at her carefully, lifting his free hand to her face. "You're drenched with sweat…" he murmured, and Shepard could tell from his rumbling undertone that he was pitying her. She waved his hand away, frowning.

"I have to use the bathroom." she mumbled, eyes looking to the window. Garrus nodded once, setting down his package as he stood back up, gently moving the blankets off of her.

Shepard chose not to look at her legs. She already knew what they looked like… ravaged shells of what they used to be. The blast and subsequent fall had not been kind to them; their bones had been broken to the point where doctors had assumed they would have to amputate. Luckily for her, Miranda and Dr. Chakwas argued the verdict. Cerberus had rebuilt her from a tube of meat. There was no way that they were going to make her a paraplegic for the rest of her life.

Unfortunately, that entailed more than a few surgeries. Her legs were an array of bolts, screws and scars; they were horribly ugly. She knew they were. Her heart caught in her throat every time she looked at them. She couldn't really feel anything but a dull pain in them; though she'd been participating in the physical therapy for four months now, there was still little to no progress, at least in her opinion. The doctors always praised her and told her how great she was doing, and Garrus was quick to back them up, but she had her doubts.

They were probably just pitying her. The Great Commander Shepard would never be what she once was.

Garrus gently moved one arm around her back. Shepard lifted an arm, wrapping it around his neck for support as his other arm went to her legs, helping her move them to the side of the bed.

"Can you stand?" he asked gently, and she nodded once, grimacing with pain as he cautiously rose with her, helping her get to her feet. She clenched her teeth together, exhaling a slow breath through them as he started to walk forward at an agonizingly slow pace. It was so humiliating, having to make poor Garrus tend to her every beck and call, even something as simple as using the toilet. He never complained, and had reassured her several times that he would do anything she needed and not think twice about it, but she felt nothing but anger towards herself for being so god damn useless.

She felt a leg buckle, and she cursed once, her whole body slacking. Garrus had moved his other arm quickly around her though, whispering reassurances to her as he waited for her to regather herself.

"I hate this," she hissed, and Garrus looked at her. Her expression was contorted in one of anger and pain, tears of frustration burning at her eyes that she stubbornly refused to let fall. Shepard hadn't wept since she lay in the rubble of London. She hated it, and only when she was faced with her own demise, reflecting on all that she had done, did she finally lower her guard enough to let all the pain out.

"Shepard…" Garrus began, but she just shook her head stubbornly, lowering her free arm to her leg, helping to adjust it back to a standing position. The turian said nothing more, simply helping his human mate towards the small bathroom.

"I can take it from here," she mumbled as they reached the doorway, and he nodded once, carefully releasing her. He treated her like glass, now. She resented it.

A minute and a half later there was a flush, and Garrus moved back from the wall, waiting for the door to slide open. After she had washed her hands and face she shambled back toward the door, and the turian sniper waited there expectantly, ready to help.

"Let me do it." Shepard demanded. His mandibles widened, and he gave a silent sigh.

"Shepard, you don't have to do this…let me help you." he offered, but as he extended a hand she pushed him away. His brow plates lowered.

"Yes, I do." she retorted, struggling to move one leg after the other. They felt like lead, doing nothing but holding her down. She felt it hard to believe that they would ever be as lithe and able as her legs once were. She had at least a dozen more surgeries left, both on them and on other parts of her body that still ached (like her spine and right shoulder), but she wondered if she would ever be able to truly feel them again, to run, jump and climb. Or would she always hobble around like an old woman?

Garrus, worried for her, stayed nearby as she slowly shuffled her way to the bed. She loved him dearly- he had been far too good to her, more than she deserved. He had taken leave from Palaven's clean up to stay by her side and help her in the recovery process. The rest of her friends and crew had more-or-less dispersed around the galaxy, though she still got visits from time to time. Joker and Dr. Chakwas had stayed nearby. Chakwas came by twice a week or so to make sure that the Citadel's hospital doctors weren't doing anything that could possibly cause life-long side effects. Joker's visits had grown longer and longer apart after she had asked about EDI.

She knew that she had had something to do with the death of the synthetics. She didn't really remember what happened with the Crucible…she just knew she had done it. Her mind occasionally flashed back to that time. Nightmares of stars. Nightmares of shooting the man she respected and loved like family. Terrors of piles of bodies strewn across a red-soaked room. She didn't remember what had happened, and she didn't want to. She didn't know that she could live with the guilty weight of an entire race and one of her best friends dying by her hands.

She groaned quietly, pain shooting up her right leg. She threw an arm out, and Garrus was there, her rock to lean against when she needed it. She rested her head back against his shoulder, slowing her breathing, trying to get a grip on herself. Only two feet away from the bed, and it felt like an eternity.

"I'm tired." she breathed, and the turian nodded, gently resting his cheek on her hair.

"I know."

"Can you carry me back?" she murmured, sighing in defeat. "They don't want to move anymore."

The great Archangel had been reduced to a nurse. Shepard felt nothing but shame for doing this to him. Yet he still didn't complain as he bent down, moving one arm around her legs, lifting her effortlessly.

"You know, Shepard, if you used a wheelchair, we could go out and look around the Citadel for a bit. You need to get out of this room." he murmured to her as he laid her down in the hospital bed. "Maybe go take a look at the _Normandy_ in dock."

Shepard said nothing. The hospital had been respectful enough to her to keep out any reporters vying for her attention or interviews, but if they left the building, there would be nowhere to hide. They would be bombarded by reporters of all kinds of different species, and the very though made her sick.

She had nothing to tell them. She didn't _remember_ anything.

Almost as if reading her mind, Garrus sat down on the bed beside her. "Don't worry. We can call Wrex to come with us. He'd headbutt all the interviewers off you."

Shepard chuckled dryly, and Garrus, satisfied that he'd made her laugh at least a little, pressed his face plates against the top of her head, closing his eyes for a moment.

"I mean it, Shepard…you can't hide from them forever." he said quietly, reopening his eyes, looking out the window. Shepard's smile began to fade, and she just rested her head against him, breathing a quiet sigh.

"I have nothing to tell them. But even if I say that, it's not like they'll believe me." she responded, bitterness in her tone. "They'll just assume I'm being difficult. I don't _know_ what happened. I don't know if I even did anything. I…I think I killed Anderson."

The words spilled out of her all at once, and Garrus moved away to look down at her, surprised. Shepard herself was staring out the window, her eyebrows furrowed together, lips pursed into a tight frown.

"I…I've been having nightmares about it. Seeing flashes. I remember talking to Anderson. He told me that…" her breath hitched momentarily. "That he was proud of me. And…I remember a gun. I remember a shot…I think the Illusive Man was there, and-"

"Shepard." Garrus interrupted, lifting a hand to turn her gaze to look at him. Though she turned her head, her eyes were still on the ground, refusing to look at him.

"Look at me."

She still stared at the floor. His mandibles clicked to his face, lowering toward her in a human's kiss. She pressed her lips to him softly, and as he pulled away, her eyes were still shut, brow tight on her forehead.

"I think that you need to get some rest. Please?" he added, as she opened her eyes and mouth, about to respond. "I'll stay with you."

She stared at him for a long time before she sighed, nodding. She carefully scooted over, allowing him enough room in the large hospital bed to lay with her. The hospital staff had been very understanding about the couple's space, and so occasionally Garrus would be able to sleep with her, though he usually took to a cot nearby. It wasn't too comfortable having the both of them in the bed, but on nights when Shepard was having consistent nightmares, he always was the first to offer.

He moved the blankets back, carefully crawling into the bed with her, his food package sitting long forgotten on the nightstand. As she laid back, he pressed his head against her temple, a reassuring reminder that he was there for her.

She slept a dreamless sleep.


End file.
